


ink and chalk

by respira



Series: shadowhunters wlw bingo 2019!! [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/F, also this goes out to that one professor i had my first semester of college, maia juggles two jobs because the education system Sucks, she had so many tattoos and i think of her every single day, support ur teachers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 05:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respira/pseuds/respira
Summary: Isabelle has never been more sure of anything else.





	ink and chalk

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the tattoo parlor and teacher x teacher boxes for sh wlw bingo!! yellow team strikes again

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jace asks. There’s a tremor in his voice, one that Alec decidedly ignores so he can save his brother from any embarrassment, but Isabelle is different in that aspect.

She hums, lips curving into a smile as she pushes the door open. Her brothers don’t know that this is the first time that she is stepping into the building, but nonetheless, all her research has paid off. There’s something uplifting and empowering about the vicinity, something that reminds Isabelle that this decision is her own and no one can take that away from her.

“Hi!” she chirps. “I have an appointment at 3?”

“Isabelle?” the artist asks.

“That’s me,” she says with a grin. To her right, Jace looks like he’s about to faint.

* * *

It became tradition, then, to get tattoos at the end of every semester. Whether it was a matching set of tattoos or something they wanted for themselves, the Lightwood siblings celebrated the end of their final exams with a new tattoo on their bodies. 

Isabelle, being the smart woman she was, had a carefully selected placement for each and every one of her tattoos. She was a person with big dreams, and if she wanted to get the job she wanted after grad school, then she was going to have to be able to cover everything up during interviews. It’s not that she was ashamed of what was on her body—in fact, she was very proud of her body and loved to show off, but unfortunately, it’s not considered “professional” to work in STEM and be covered in tattoos from head to toe.

“Well, this is your classroom!” the principal, Mrs. Penhallow, announces excitedly. “Textbooks are in the back to provide as class copies. All the materials you should need are already in here, as well as other things in the storage closet right behind you.” Isabelle turns and spares a quick glance at the storage room behind her; it’s an enormous space, a joint closet between two separate classrooms. “Ah, yes, it is shared with the classroom next door, but they’re both science classes, so I don’t believe it should be an issue… but it might be a good idea to take it upon yourself to discuss with your neighbor, wouldn’t it?” Mrs. Penhallow—Jia, if Isabelle remembers correctly—claps her hands as a dismissal. “Well, I believe this is it. Please feel free to call or visit my office if you have any questions!”

Isabelle continues to look around the classroom as Jia’s footsteps become quieter and quieter. It’s a much larger classroom than she was expecting, and the thought of exactly how many children could fit in here was a bit overwhelming, but she was sure that she was going to be just fine. Isabelle had dedicated the last couple of years to this, a tattoo on her body commemorating every half-year of school, and she knows exactly what she needs to do.

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she goes, and Isabelle knows that she’s going to be just fine.

* * *

Isabelle lowers her hand from the chalkboard and turns to face her class. “Now, let’s move on to mi—”

The door to the storage closet opens abruptly, and Isabelle almost snaps the chalk in between her fingers. There’s another woman coming out from their shared closet—it’s the teacher from next door, whom Isabelle had yet to meet, but it seems that now is as good a time as any.

“Hi, Ms. Roberts,” a few of Isabelle’s students croon.

“Oh, shit,” the woman, Ms. Roberts, exclaims. “I’m  _ so _ sorry, I thought that you also had a conference period right now—um, I can come back another time?”

Isabelle’s mouth opens to respond, but she can’t seem to find the words to say. The students begin to laugh as their teachers begin to stare at each other for longer than necessary. “Uh,” she says finally, “how about lunch?”

“Lunch… works!” the other teacher says, then purses her lips into a strained smile and gives Isabelle a thumbs up as she slips back into the storage closet. As soon as the door closes with a creak, Isabelle turns back to her students with a nervous smile on her face.

“Mitosis?” one of the students from the back asks.

“Yes, mitosis,” Isabelle exhales.

* * *

As soon as the lunch bell rings, the teacher from next door wastes no time coming into Isabelle’s classroom from the storage closet. Isabelle admires her punctuality; it really shows that she cares about her own class and that she’s not forgetful about what’s on her agenda.

“Hi,” the woman says. She pauses for a second before sticking out her hand. “I’m Maia.”

Isabelle takes her hand and gives it a firm shake, relieved that she’s not the only one feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Some of the older teachers in the buildings have come up to Isabelle and said hello before school began its session for the semester, but Isabelle had yet to meet her neighbor. Maia Roberts seemed like a lovely young woman, around Isabelle’s age, if not older. Isabelle was sure that they would get along just fine.

“I’m Isabelle.”

“Um,” Maia states, her words seeming to fall from her tongue. “Oh, right. Would you happen to know where the scalpels are? I have a dissection class during sixth period but I can’t seem to find them in my room…”

“Oh!” Isabelle exclaims. “Yeah, they’re in the closet somewhere. I was rearranging some things a few days ago and I think I saw them in a box? Here, let me show you.”

The two of them step back into the storage closet, Maia keeping a short distance behind Isabelle as she looks for the box of dissection kits. If she remembers correctly, she had placed them next to the DNA gel kits—

“Right here,” Isabelle says. She raises her arms and pulls the box from the top shelf before turning back to Maia. “Thank goodness you ended up needing them. I was really confused about why exactly I needed these for my class.” She chuckles, and then remembers to actually hand over the box.

“You teach biology, right?” Maia asks as she takes the box from Isabelle’s arms.

“Yes,” Isabelle says proudly. “Is dissection the only class you teach?”

“Oh, no,” Maia responds with a smile. Her shoulders move slightly, as if she was going to wave her hand had she not been carrying a box. “That’s only an elective. I teach earth science.”

“Oh, cool! So you send your sixth graders over to me, then.”

Maia laughs for the first time since they met, and something pools in Isabelle’s stomach. “And some of your seventh graders are in my dissection class, it seems.”

“I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” Isabelle muses softly.

The corner of Maia’s mouth raises slightly, more a smirk than anything else, but it seems shy. “I sure hope so,” she responds. She turns, carrying the box of dissection kits in her hands, and she makes it back into her own classroom.

* * *

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Maia says one day. Lunch together had become commonplace for the two women, and Isabelle can hardly remember when she ate lunch alone. Sometimes they had students in their classes, whether they had either Maia or Isabelle’s class the following period or they were just there to see their friends, but the teachers hardly ever paid attention.

“Ms. Lightwood has a tattoo?” one eavesdropping student gasps.

Suddenly there’s a small commotion in the classroom—they’re in Maia’s classroom today, where the desks are arranged to seat four students, and word gets around quickly. There are whispers of  _ holy shit that’s so cool _ and  _ I  _ told  _ you I wasn’t lying when I saw something inside her wrist. _ A blush creeps onto Isabelle’s cheeks, not that she was trying to hide her tattoos, but she was always used to dressing professionally as a teacher, and she was quite shocked to find out that Maia had paid close attention.

“I do, yeah,” Isabelle admits shyly. “Quite a few, actually.”

A few of their students are crowding Maia’s desk now, and Isabelle has never been more afraid of eleven- and twelve-year-olds as she was in that moment. They ask to see what exactly is on Isabelle’s forearm, and she rolls up her sleeve to reveal a snake tattoo on the inside. “They’re my favorite animal,” she explains, and one of her students says that it’s pretty metal. Isabelle is pretty sure it’s a compliment.

* * *

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jace asks, not for the first time. Nor will it be the last time that any of his siblings see him shaking out of his boots, because no matter how many tattoos he has, or plans on getting, Jace Lightwood will always be afraid of needles.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Max responds. Jace almost faints at his answer, and Alec can only bring himself to laugh.

Isabelle has waited  _ years _ for this moment. Matching tattoos with her brothers was always something that she wanted, but Max had made the older three promise that they wouldn’t get them until he was of age. And here he was, freshly eighteen, and ready to get his first tattoo with his brothers and sister. He even worked with their step-sister, Clary, to design it: there are four circles, one patterned and the others solid, the patterned circle moving in a clockwise fashion depending on their age. Alec said he quite liked the idea of having the top left corner, and while Isabelle’s patterned circle was going to be on the bottom right, she liked to think of it as being surrounded by her brothers’ love rather than being pushed into a corner. Needless to say, she was very excited.

The only subject of concern, at least to Jace, was that Max wanted to pick the tattoo artist. Alec only asked of Max that he conducted thorough research on their art and qualifications, but Jace was worried that because it wasn’t going to be Raj this time, this new artist might accidentally kill him. But Max insisted that this tattoo artist was very talented and he was sure she was going to do an amazing job.

Isabelle just wasn’t expecting said tattoo artist to be Maia Roberts.

“Izzy?” Maia exclaims. “What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh!”

“Getting some new ink with my brothers,” Isabelle says with a laugh. Maia pulls her into a tight hug, and Isabelle can feel Alec’s eyebrows raise from behind her.

“Oh, sick! I have an appointment right now, but I’m sure Gretel or Taito can see you guys—”

“I’m here for you, actually,” Max pipes up. “I’m Max.”

“Well, how the tables turn,” Maia muses, the corner of her lip quirking up like it does when she lectures—the only reason Isabelle knows this is because she  _ might _ sit in on Maia’s classes sometimes. “This is going to be real fun, I promise you.”

* * *

The following Monday, during lunch, Isabelle lightly smacks Maia’s arm.

“You never told me you were a tattoo artist!” she exclaims, feigning hurt.

Maia, knowing Isabelle too well at this point, only laughs. “Unfortunately, being a teacher barely pays the bills.”

Isabelle nods solemnly, knowing that all too well. But all she can do is stare at Maia, so amazed and blown away by what she’s capable of doing. She clearly loves science with every piece of her heart, and Isabelle had never seen Maia smile so much as when she’s leading a dissection. She always talks about how she wants to pursue another degree and strengthen her passion for marine biology—maybe, if she can afford the schooling, become a professor in marine biology especially. Maia is passionate and smart and strong and talented, and finding out that she’s a tattoo artist after school and on weekends leaves Isabelle even more intrigued. Intrigued in a way that Isabelle thinks she wants to take Maia out—and Isabelle isn’t quite sure how she feels about that.

Maia reaches for Isabelle’s wrist and holds it gently. She turns it over to see the four circles on her inner forearm, and runs her thumb across the bottom right circle. Isabelle can usually keep her cool in many situations, but this type of touching was just a breadth beyond casual and borderline intimate.

“Isn’t it crazy that my work is going to be on you forever?” Maia whispers.

Isabelle giggles, albeit nervously. “You’re a tattoo artist, Maia.”

“I know, but you’re special,” Maia argues immediately. She looks up at Isabelle and blushes, like she didn’t mean to say that. “I’m sorry,” she hurries. “That was really unprofessional of me and I didn’t mean it like that—”

“What if I wanted you to mean it like that?” Isabelle dares. Okay, maybe she  _ was _ sure.

Maia smiles, slowly, and then so big that her mouth doesn’t seem wide enough, and Isabelle has never been more sure of anything else. 


End file.
